


An Unexpected Arrangement

by keiliss



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: ...this was such fun to write, Event Planning, Found Family, Humor, M/M, all's well that ends well, elrohir's pet, unfortunate use of the colour peach, walk that road with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/pseuds/keiliss
Summary: Glorfindel asks Erestor to marry him. What's the worst that could happen?
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 42
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	An Unexpected Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ysilme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysilme/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day, Ysilme. I was so pleased to be writing for you, I hope you enjoy this.

In the year 1000 of the Third Age, Glorfindel of Gondolin, famous for killing a balrog and thereby saving the lives of Idril and the refugees she brought out of their dying city, was reborn and sent across the sea, back to Middle-earth. From Cirdan’s Grey Havens he was directed to the mainly peaceful valley of Imladris, bearing dire warnings of rising darkness but also an inextinguishable enthusiasm for life and the future, no matter how fraught with danger. 

There he met Elrond’s main advisor and organizer, a short, practical elf with hair as black as a Haradrim’s, a sharp tongue, and an air of barely suppressed impatience with the rest of the world. His name was Erestor and he was officially designated Elrond’s seneschal, which title meant whatever Erestor wanted it to mean on any given day.

Erestor was a veteran of a career at Gil-galad's court, which had involved military intelligence and the company of any number of disreputable, though well placed, people. There had also been rumours of an affair with the king, which he quite correctly refused to discuss. After the battle of the Last Alliance broke Sauron’s power, he took off into the wild with Gildor's people for a couple of centuries, which seemed to suggest, though not confirm, a period of mourning. Eventually Elrond persuaded him to settle in Imladris, which he did with minimal fuss.

On the surface he and the famous newcomer had nothing in common – a former spymaster of dubious repute and the mighty hero from the First Age - but inexplicably, Glorfindel took one look and was smitten. Even more inexplicably, Erestor found him endlessly fascinating, even if initially that fascination might have been more scientific than romantic. There were no shared confidences about him and Glorfindel either, but for anyone who paid attention to such things, the way they began to seek each other out told its own tale.

Everything went along almost normally for an older couple who had been fortunate enough to find one another against all odds – after all, the chance of reborn Glorfindel returning to Middle-earth was so unlikely as to be outside gambling odds. People began treating them as a couple, inviting both to social events rather than individually.

Where their roads diverged was Glorfindel’s opinion of the obvious next stage their relationship should take.

"He wants to do what?" Elrond tried not to laugh. He had known Erestor for a very long time, and it was seldom he was anything less than articulate.

"Get married. What he described as a traditional wedding." Erestor said the words uncertainly as though they were of foreign origin and the meaning unclear.

“Erestor, those big formal gatherings are quite a rare thing these days,” Elrond said carefully. They were sitting outside under the cherry tree and no one was nearby, but even so he kept his voice down. “I think you might have misunderstood him.”

Erestor shook his head firmly. “The word was ‘marry’. I heard him clearly. I even asked him to clarify, which he took to be a bit argumentative. But yes, he meant a traditional wedding. As they did in Gondolin.”

Erestor watched the expressions chase each other across Elrond’s face as a lantern flared in his head and possibilities began presenting themselves.

“Ah.”

“No, not ‘Ah’.” Erestor had been standing in front of him but now began pacing, staying just within the area allowed by the shadow of the tree. “Turgon insisted things be done 'properly’. Not the simpler handfasting we follow for a couple, with or without option of future babies, but a massive affair. With gifts. And catering a feast for everyone they know. In our case that would be the whole valley and most of Lórien.”

He spun round on his heel at the next turn and faced Elrond with hands on hips. “I just can’t believe he brought that up. Things are perfectly good as they now stand.”

“You’ve talked about this before?” Elrond’s brow was furrowed, his eyes concerned. It occurred to Erestor that Elrond, long-lived child of legends, might not know more about this than he did.

“Well yes, I thought we had. Keep my rooms or keep his rooms – his view is better, mine are more private. Try and get a larger suite. Look out for one of those cottages in the village, which he thought would be fun and I thought would involve things like cooking and laundry. There was nothing in those options about public promises while swearing by the Name.”

Elrond gestured to the space beside him on the bench. “Come and sit down, you’re making me dizzy. Now, Erestor.”

Erestor sighed heavily and sat down next to him. “What?”

“Breathe slowly, in and out. Stop letting this run away with your head. You and Glorfindel have an – understanding, yes, but it seems you do not actually understand one another yet, which is a completely different thing.”

Elrond had admitted once that he had slight experience of same gender couples in his youth, which gave a whole added texture to any relationship advice he might be offering. Erestor struggled for his usual level of calm. “I think sometimes he forgets it’s a different world, and sometimes I forget where he comes from, yes. But even so --- the last big wedding I attended was yours to Celebrían, and Galadriel would have accepted nothing less.. More usually it’s in front of family and a few close friends and there’s a lot of alcohol. This – this is something else entirely.”

He just managed to stop himself from wringing his hands, which Elrond would never let him forget.

Children could be heard laughing and shouting somewhere. A bird flew up from one of the branches above their head, showering them with loose leaves. Elrond considered him from under lowered brows. “Are you worried by what people will think? Or the cost? Or of being the centre of attention in such a – noteworthy manner?”

Two out of three wasn’t bad. Erestor had never given a damn what people thought, but he had never much liked being the centre of attention either, preferring to operate behind the scenes. And the cost would be exceptional. Glorfindel had money on a scale commensurate with his previous status, but even so, he could hardly be expected to host the entire valley. And Gildor’s people, who never missed a party. And possible guests from elsewhere.

“You could get some of Gildor’s crowd to provide entertainment,” Elrond suggested, eerily close to following his thoughts. “Regardless, I do think you need to discuss this more with Glorfindel, be sure you haven’t counted ten chickens before the eggs hatch.”

“Elrond, it’s a crazy idea - it’s not how we do things here. What will Celebrían think?”

Elrond looked glum. “Celebrían will think it an excellent idea and will have attended all kinds of strange marriage ceremonies in her youth because her parents have been everywhere and done everything. And you know it, you’ve known her since childhood.”

Erestor had always felt a bit sorry for Celebrían, having parents who were their own legend and had done it all, sometimes more than once. “Well, perhaps, but she’ll be in a minority.”

Elrond leaned back against the tree trunk, tilting his face up to the mild sunshine. “Probably. But something like that never bothered you before and it won’t now. What might bother you is looking back and finding you had the chance at another adventure and turned it down flat because no one had tried doing it since the First Age. That is not how I know you. Go and explore.”

\-----o

“Stand still and stop fussing, Erestor,” Celebrían said firmly. “You act as though you never had a formal outfit tailored for you before, which is hardly likely. I remember how well you were always dressed at the court in Mithlond.”

Erestor compressed his lips and stood still as fabric was draped across and around him and measurements were taken. They were in the private reception room of the family wing and Tríwion, currently the most popular and fashionable clothing designer in all the elven havens, was hovering over him while an assistant did the actual work.

“I think perhaps a touch of cobweb lace over here, my lady?” he suggested to Celebrían, indicating somewhere around Erestor’s chest.

Celebrían came closer, frowned. “It won’t be too much, will it? Though yes, it would be very attractive. Different. Making the whole…”

“… an homage to nature, yes precisely, my lady. And if the hair is perhaps worn up to avoid masking the detail…”

“Oh yes, yes. There’s a style I saw in Mithlond that would suit exactly.”

Erestor cleared his throat. “Celebrían? Just in case you forgot - I am still here.”

Celebrían gave him a smile that even after years as the Lady of Imladris was still sweetly hopeful: she had grown up in the shadow of two powerful and strong-willed parents and it had taken time for her to accept that she really was the lady not just of this house but the entire haven – the Lady, all of her life, had been her mother. “I’m sorry, of course you are, and if you have any suggestions or preference Tríwion and I would love to hear them.”

For reasons that weren’t clear to Erestor, the twins were there, sharing a bowl of fruit and watching with deep interest. One of them – Elladan? – shook his head in warning. The other put two fingers to his lips. Erestor took the hint. “I have very little time for fashion these days, Celebrían, and am completely out of touch. Whatever you think is best, of course.”

She smiled, her face lighting up in delight. “Oh good. We want you to look wonderful. It’s not every day our seneschal gets married. When Tríwion has finished, I’ll send for tea and we can discuss the meal plan. Elrond had some idea about an outdoor meal under the trees, but I thought a proper sit down dinner in the Hall? After all, Glorfindel is a lord, and I know they were sticklers for doing things properly in Gondolin. I must see if I can find more books on how this used to be done.”

\-----o

“I can offer a tumbling act, fire eaters – if Elrond will allow it – dancers… You may as well have the lot.” Gildor sniffed the cup of tea that had been placed on the table near his elbow and wrinkled his nose. “Gods, is this that green stuff again?”

“I get them to put honey in it and it’s not as bad,” Erestor told him. “I love tea, but when you ask for it you need to be specific or this is what you get. It’s all the rage here at the moment. Apparently so is something called cobweb lace.”

Gildor rested chin on hand and stared at him. “You’re wearing cobweb lace these days? That’s a very – Lórien thing, isn’t it? Retro.”

Erestor blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Retro. In other words, it’s a reworking of something that was popular a very long time ago. In this case back in the days when Lindon was a kingdom. No idea how you missed it. It always takes Lórien a while to catch up. Either that or it originally came from over the sea… more their style possibly, though I don’t remember seeing it growing up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“Cobweb lace, me. What are you talking about?”

“The outfit Celebrían is having designed for my marriage ceremony.”

Gildor grinned. “I hardly recognize my little cousin, she’s completely taken over, hasn’t she? Just like her amil.”

Erestor leaned back and closed his eyes. Normally restful was not a word he would use for his office, but right now it was a haven from the world beyond. “She wants it to be right,” he said, trying to find the right words. “Elrond says she was brought up to believe things were always done properly in Gondolin and her mother would expect nothing less from her and therefore I should humour her. And I am very fond of her and am trying my best. And it was – kind of her to arrange a special outfit for me and find someone to style my hair to go with it. The flowers will be lovely and I have been shown the menu for the sit down dinner…”

“Sit down dinner?” Gildor’s eyebrows went up. “Where are we, Gondor?”

Erestor threw up his hands. “Oh gods, I have no idea. Maybe they did it like that in Gondolin.”

“Have you asked Fin?”

Erestor stopped in mid complaint and stared at Gildor. “Of course not. When I accepted his proposal, he said we should do this with as much or as little fuss as I wanted. When I told him Bri was organizing it he was really pleased --- they’re – distant family, I’m not sure I know how distant…”

“Third cousin couple of times removed,” Gildor said without pausing for thought. “You’re marrying into Tirion nobility, you need to learn your genealogy. It’s almost as important there as it is among the Hobbits.”

Erestor, who had never met a Hobbit, had no opinion on this. He glowered briefly but Gildor was impossible to intimidate. “Anyhow, he’s happy she’s involved, and she’s happy because she can get more practice at organising a party. It will probably raise all sorts of eyebrows, though I doubt she would notice, she had an even stranger childhood than Elrond - and Elrond’s happy because he thinks it will be a good occasion to invite a few guests from beyond our borders, an excuse for a little diplomacy.”

Gildor nodded and sipped his tea carefully. “It’s not bad with the honey,” he said after rolling it around in his mouth like a good wine. “What are you doing about music?”

“Music?”

“You need more than a few tumbling acts and some dancing so I’m assuming Elrond will give you his best musicians. Otherwise we run to pipes, drum and a fiddle.”

“I’ll mention it to Bri,” Erestor said, resigning himself to another layer of arrangements.

Gildor looked at him under lowered brows. “How about you?”

“Me?”

  
“Yes. Fin’s happy, Celebrían’s happy, Elrond’s happy. Are you happy?”

Erestor stared at him. “It’ll be fine. It’s only for a few hours and then Glory and I can get on with our lives. It’ll be fine.”

“You want some advice?” Gildor asked in the tones of someone who has been a friend for so long that advice would be proffered, welcome or not. “Take control of this yourself. And do it the way you want. Not to fit some picture Celebrían has in her head. It’s your day. Put your signature on it.”

\-----o

“Who’s paying for all this?”

Glorfindel had been away for days overseeing the search for a band of orcs who were making a nuisance of themselves to the little farming settlements out beyond the valley. He was sitting on the couch in his living room reading through reports and catching up on whatever he had missed while absent. He had an office at the barracks, of course, but had brought the work up to his rooms instead so that he could be with Erestor while he read.

Erestor was at the other end of the couch, legs stretched out, bare feet on Glorfindel’s lap, trying to be quiet. From where he sat he could see the impressive view of the river and the waterfall. He could just about make out the village from his rooms, but he had been a less important person when he was originally assigned them and had grown content with his surroundings. 

Glorfindel finished reading a sentence before looking up. “Paying for what?”

Erestor waved a hand. “The – ceremony? Celebrían has ordered clothing for me, there’s to be a meal, entertainments – Gildor’s people would have put on a free show if she hadn’t offered to pay, never offer Gildor money – and then there’s the flowers and my hair and…”

“Your hair?” Glorfindel put down the report sounding alarmed. “What are they going to do with your hair?”

Erestor frowned, trying to remember. “Some kind of updo, which I thought was a mortal female preference but what do I know? Something about not taking attention from the cobweb lace. Whatever that is.”

“Very fine lace, delicate as a cobweb as the name suggests,” Glorfindel said, startling him. “What? My mother had an entire dress of the stuff. Each time she wore it Idril would ask if she wasn’t cold.”

Erestor felt he had lost the thread of what he was trying to say. “Just – it seems such a lot and I don’t know what it’ll cost. She keeps telling me not to fuss.”

Glorfindel smiled, his eyes returning to the page. “I like positive people. Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine. I’m sure she won’t leave us penniless.”

“There’ll be – a lot of people. She’s asked you for information about how it was done in Gondolin, I hope? I mean, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be quite the same as our standard ceremony…”

“What, with the fertility blessing? I definitely hope not.” Glorfindel was laughing now. “I don’t think that’s something either of us is quite built for. No, just a blessing and a meal.”

“Blessing?” Erestor straightened up. Glorfindel just managed to stop the pile of already dealt with reports from landing on the floor. “Define blessing?”

“It’s traditional for a senior member of the family – or community – to give a short speech, say a few words of blessing, invoke the One, all the rest of that. Elrond’s going to do it. Be careful what you’re kicking here, we might both live to regret it.”

Erestor stared at him, trying to find the words. “Glory, I’m not… You never went into details with me.”

“Erestor, could you let me finish this, please. Then we can talk. And I thought Celebrían had explained all of this – certainly before you drew up the guest list.”

“Guest list?” His voice rose sharply in spite of himself. This had been wholly Celebrían’s province, which might have been another mistake on his part. Erestor had not been more than vaguely alarmed up until now, but the sense of an approaching hurricane was starting to make itself known.

Glorfindel gave up. He put both stacks of paper on the floor, pushed Erestor’s feet off his lap and reached for him instead. Erestor moved over into the circle of his arm with a sigh. Glorfindel kissed the side of his head just beyond the hairline. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he promised. “It’s one day of people fussing. Then it’ll be over and we’ll be able to go into the future as two parts of a whole, sharing one another’s lives forever.”

It had not occurred to Erestor that so much would be done in front of an audience of several hundreds. Rather he had pictured a more private agreement to love and honour and share the expenses. He had also not foreseen all the other accoutrements. He tried to frame words to ask these things without offending his partner but saw Glorfindel was looking puzzled and a touch worried. Erestor gave up and pulled him down into a proper kiss, reminding himself to ask Elrond in the morning what that blessing was all about.

\-----o

“I am not wearing my hair up like a painting of the Star Kindler by a particularly lazy artist,” Erestor said with finality. The drawing from Celebrían’s stylist, sent so he would know what was envisioned by ‘worn up’, was evocative for all the wrong reasons. He put it back down on his desk, pushing it away for greater emphasis.

“I’m not meant to tell her that, am I?” Elladan asked nervously. Elrohir was craning his neck to get a final look at the picture. He had a brown grass snake looped around his neck where it hung peacefully, half asleep. Elrohir’s pets were never conventional; Erestor was trying to keep his distance without being obvious about it.

He sighed now. “No, no it’s all right. Just tell her I was busy when you gave it to me. No need to tell her I went white in the face. I’ll deal with it on the day.”

“She said there’ll be a trial run to make sure it works. You could tell her then?” Elladan suggested. “Say it makes you itch or something.”

Erestor considered him. “Yes, I suppose you’ve had to find a few escape routes in your time. I’ll keep that in mind. Elrohir, why a snake?”

Elrohir gave him a placid smile. There was no confusing the two. Once one had time to get to know them, Elrohir was the rather unfocused one liable to get into all kinds of trouble mainly by accident, while in Elladan’s case, it was likely to be deliberate. “She just finished shedding and she’s cold and sad,” he explained. “So I’m keeping her with me till she feels better. I think she likes seeing new places.”

“Keeping an eye out for mice,” Elladan suggested. Elladan had asked for separate rooms as soon as he was likely to be allowed to branch out on his own; he loved his brother but had grown tired of not knowing what he would find next on any given morning.

They left arguing about the correct diet for a grass snake, and Erestor sat back down at his desk, looking at the picture of a person of indeterminate gender with their hair worn in an upswept style with a few rather garish fastenings. He gave a small sigh and placed it where he could see it while he worked, then pulled the ledger back in front of him. Agricultural expenditure was something he had never in his wildest dreams imagined he would need to understand, but there he was, pretending he knew what he was doing. He went back to working down the rows of tiny figures. Every so often he would glance up and have his eye drawn to the picture. Each time he had to repress a shudder.

\-----o

“Celebrían is having a lovely time planning your celebration,” Elrond said in the kind of fond tone that suggested he lacked details, but life at home was good. “We don’t do enough here that involves dressing up or invitations.”

Erestor had come to hide in a corner of the Hall of Fire, where Celebrían never came during the day: normally she would be too busy at the forge or overseeing the household. He had not expected Elrond either. “I’m glad she’s enjoying herself,” he said neutrally, trying without success to hide his glass.

“Wine in the afternoon?” Elrond asked, amused. “And from a confirmed tea drinker.”

“It’s been a long day. I had guild business to deal with and a long talk with Arhael about the goats getting into the vegetables again, plus I had to look at the revised menu for the wedding feast. Reminds me, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Yes, I had something to ask you as well,” Elrond said, taking it as an invitation to sit down. “Your assistants.”

Erestor looked at him blankly. “My what?”

“Assistants.” Elrond had a lovely smile that was seen too seldom recently, with the hints of darkness and danger growing by the day. “To stand up with you during the ceremony. Your supporters.”

“I have never seen such a thing.” Erestor said it as flatly and as firmly as his voice could conjure, and it was anyhow the truth. Normally a couple’s families might join them in the circle, but that was all.

“Celebrían went through the details of ceremonial in Gondolin and found that it was usual for a few friends to support each party. They wear matching outfits…” Elrond could have been reciting a trade proposal.

“Have you asked Glorfindel?” It sounded desperate but it was the best he could manage.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think it necessary. She’s quite sure of her source, he’s busy, and she said she wanted to surprise him with the accuracy. Call it part of her gift to the two of you.”

Erestor, who had been about to say he had no need for assistants of any kind, thank you, bit back the words, overtaken by an image of Celebrían as a child, once more left to one side while her mother saw to matters of major importance. Imladris and marriage to Elrond had finally given her a chance to shine. If this made her happy, he was sure he could endure it for one day. “Just one,” he said, before he had time to think about it. “Gildor. I’ve known him longest. He’ll do.”

\-----o

“I have to make sure you get there on time, that someone has the rings, that you’ve rehearsed your share of the vows, and explain who all the people are from the other side who are about to become your new family. Don’t look at me like that, that’s what it says here.” Gildor tapped the book in front of him. “And for the life of me I don’t understand why no one’s asking Fin how he wants this done.”

“Elrond says Celebrían wants to surprise him with her accuracy.”

They were in Erestor’s rooms, an area from which Glorfindel had been banned. There was a diagram of the seating arrangement for the dinner tacked to the wall, fabric samples thrown over a chair back, pictures of hair styles once Celebrían accepted Erestor was not happy with the first suggestion, a sketch of the clothing he would be wearing, reworked several times from the look of it, and a vase of ill-matched flowers for him to choose between for décor – she had not explained what kind of décor. Gildor got up and wandered over to the window, pausing to look at the samples on the way.

“I hope there’s not too much of that lace, it’s almost transparent,” he said, leaning his elbows on the windowsill and staring out. “Not sure that’s the look for you. I never worked out why you didn’t get somewhere bigger after a while, but these are nice rooms, even with the minimal view. Who’s getting this corner once you move out?”

Erestor shrugged. “I’m trying not to think about packing up, I’ve been here forever. I clean out regularly but it doesn’t always work. Things accumulate.”

“Who would I have to ask if I wanted this for when I stay over?”

Erestor gave him a hard look. “At least wait for me to vacate first. And I don’t know, try Celebrían.”

“As long as she doesn’t have a project in mind for it,” Gildor said. “The girl’s developing a relentless side, just like her mother. Why does she want to surprise Fin?”

“I don’t know? Elrond just mentioned it. And she’s so happy planning everything.”

“She doesn’t look happy to me. More fraught and harassed,” Gildor said. “I mean, what do I know? Maybe that’s how she signals excitement. Anyhow, I still think you should sound Fin out. Just tell him not to tell her. Or let me do it.”

“No. I’m sure Elrond wouldn’t like it.”

Gildor swung round to stand with his back to the window and glared at Erestor. “You’re worried about Elrond’s feelings, Celebrían’s feelings, when you’re the least happy I’ve seen you in years.”

“It’s just a lot. The entire valley and beyond will be there. And the blessing – I’m still not sure how that works.”

“I’ll talk to Elrond about that – no, don’t stop me there, it’s probably my job as your assistant. Just to get clarity. And I’ll point out to him that Fin will need to know about that, he has to learn his vows.”

Erestor had the feeling of being in a too-small room with the walls closing in on him. He started breathing carefully, in and out, hoping Gildor, who missed nothing, would fail to notice. He told himself he was sure nerves were a normal part of getting married, even more so for a less personal ceremony. He would get over it.

Failing which, he would simply cope. After believing love was something he could not hope to find twice in a lifetime, he had met and fallen in love with Glorfindel. In the end, it would all be worth it. Surely.

\-----o

“I don’t know, Restor. It’s very – light,” Arwen said dubiously. “You usually wear dark or strong colours.”

“What are the ruffles for?” Elladan asked. “They look like someone tacked them on by accident.”

They were in Celebrían’s reception room once again, and this time Erestor had been given his wedding outfit to try for the first fitting. The twins were there again, this time joined by their sister. Three pair of grey eyes were considering him critically while their mother was out of the room and in discussion with Tríwion’s assistant.

Erestor kept his face expressionless. “Your mother wanted a blend between current fashion and a style once popular in Gondolin,” he explained.

“You always tell us not to follow fashion but to set it,” Elladan pointed out. “As you used to back in Mithlond when you were younger, you said. I don’t know if this is that.”

“Yes, but if Nana likes it, then it must be all right?” Elrohir still had the snake. She was curled around his neck like a scarf, her head resting on his shoulder. Erestor wondered it didn’t strangle him but knew better than to interfere. Elrohir understood animals.

“I think Nana’s trying to get it to fit Gondolin styling from the pictures in her book,” Arwen said dubiously. “That was hundreds and hundreds of yeni ago. I wonder if Glorfindel even remembers what it was like.”

Erestor took a chance. He had rescued all three of Elrond’s children from many varieties of trouble with their parents: they owed him. “What is she trying to do really?” he asked. “I know she wants to make it a special day for us, but all this Gondolin business? And without even asking Glorfindel if it’s accurate?”

“Grandmother,” they all said.

Erestor just stopped himself from looking around in case the Lady had somehow arrived secretly in Imladris and was about to make an entrance. “Galadriel? What does this have to do with your grandmother?”

They exchanged looks. Elladan opened his mouth to speak but Elrohir’s snake lifted its head and looked towards the door, her tongue flickering in and out of her mouth a few times. Erestor kept very still, just in case. Elrohir cleared his throat. “I don’t know anything about fashion,” he said rather loudly.

“It’s not complicated,” Erestor said, nodding thanks for the warning. “Just that it’s meant to be uncomfortable if you’re doing it right.”

Celebrían came back into the room looking worried. “Oh Erestor, is it not comfortable? Of course everything must still be adjusted…”

A mirror had been brought into the room and propped against a table. He turned to look at himself once again in it. Soft amethyst and palest peach looked back at him, with a fine mesh of cream lace triangled across his chest and delicate seashell ruffles cascading down. He had obligingly wound his hair up atop his head to get it out the way so as not to spoil the neckline which was, apparently, special. The overall effect was – unfortunate.

His eyes met Celebrían’s in the mirror. She looked even more unhappy. “It itches a bit,” he said, recalling Elladan’s earlier advice.

“The colour doesn’t quite suit you,” she said in a quiet voice. “It’s what the book advised, just paler than I expected.”

“I – have not really worn too many pastels,” he admitted.

“Tríwion was so certain.”

“Bri, designers are always so certain,” he said gently. “And I know you want this to be special, but possibly the best way to do that would be to simplify things a little? This is – rather a lot for Imladris. We’re not much into dressing up unless we have royalty calling.”

Celebrían gave him a sideways glance. “Not royalty,” she said. “Just my parents.”

\-----o

“And you were going to tell me your grandparents would be here – when?”

Erestor was angry, with the kind of anger that grows out of extreme fear. He had managed to cut the three off as they made their escape from the family wing. Currently they were all huddled in one of the small guest bedrooms which happened to be both convenient and empty. Elladan was trying to look nonchalant, hands behind his back. Elrohir’s snake was agitated and he was attempting to calm her. Arwen, the youngest, took charge.

“We only found out ourselves a few days ago Restor, and we thought you knew. Nana told her about you and Glorfindel – she had to know, we’re related to him, after all – and she wrote back very quickly to tell Nana about how marriages were performed in Gondolin and how she needed to do it properly so Glorfindel would feel comfortable with it and appreciate that we’d taken the trouble to find out how it was done?

“So she was looking at old books for ideas and then Grandmother sent another note – poor overworked messenger pigeon - saying they might be persuaded to attend. You know how she says things, very short, you don’t know if she means them like that or some other way – and then…”

“And then your mother realised she needed to recreate Gondolin in the Hall of Fire,” Erestor finished off. “Gods, poor Bri. Are you sure they’re coming?”

Arwen nodded, but her brothers looked less certain. “Grandmother doesn’t travel a lot anymore, she might change her mind at the last minute,” Elladan said. “Or maybe not. She might want to see what Nana’s done – and wish you and Glorfindel, of course.”

Celebrían had spent her entire childhood trying to live up to an unrealistic image of what her mother wanted from her. If she believed Galadriel felt this should be a recreation of a ceremony from long-lost Gondolin for Glorfindel’s sake, she would try her darndest.

\-----o

Erestor took a long walk beside the river, always a good place to think. He had a deskful of work waiting for him back at the house, but he needed to clear his head. Celebrían’s intensity made sense now, the way things had snowballed from nice clothes and a meal to the biggest public event in yeni, complete with the nearest to Noldor royalty left this side of the Sea. Well, there was Gildor, but somehow he always managed to seem less Finwëan than his cousin.

The thought of all this and Galadriel too was giving him another headache, but there seemed no way out short of calling things off. Eventually he went back to his office and tried to immerse himself in the running of Imladris for the rest of the day. When he finally got back to his rooms, with the idea of changing into something more civilized than a plain dark robe for dinner, it was to find Glorfindel already there.

He hesitated on the threshold before closing the door and coming into the room. “I thought we agreed you’d stay out? All the festive bits and pieces are on view, it’s meant to be a surprise.”

Glorfindel was examining the sample of amethyst silk, running it through his hands. It looked pale and uninspired near the golden glow of his hair. “I know,” he said, frowning at the cloth. “Gildor said.”

“I told Gildor to shut up.” Of course Gildor only shut up if he wanted to or if you dragged a promise out of him, but Erestor had been distracted.

Glorfindel dropped the fabric back onto the chair and turned the frown on him. “No, he was worried about you, so he came to me. Unless the world has changed even more than I thought, that’s what friends are supposed to do.”

Erestor went over and leaned against him with a long sigh, forehead resting against Glorfindel’s shoulder. “You have – no idea,” he said with feeling. “None. And it’s meant to be kept that way because Celebrían wants to surprise you.”

“Apparently.” Glorfindel put his arms around him and they stood together, just being close. For Erestor it was like the relief of sinking into a hot bath at the end of a very long day. “I don’t much like surprises, you know,” Glorfindel added. “I’ve had too many unpleasant ones in my life. If this is another one – if you’ve had second or third thoughts – you need to tell me, not keep pushing ahead with something that from Gildor’s account is making you miserable.”

Erestor stepped back from him, startled. “No, no it’s nothing like that. No second or third thoughts about spending the future with you, ever. Just – the manner of doing it is a little overwhelming. A lot overwhelming.“ Glorfindel pulled him in close again with what might have been a relieved sigh. Voice muffled against his shoulder, Erestor continued, “You don’t like surprises? Here’s one more. Your – third cousin, is it? – Galadriel might be attending our wedding. And Celeborn if she can talk him into it – he’ll usually leave people in peace where he can.”

Glorfindel stood quiet for a minute stroking his hair, then gave him an extra hug and released him. “We’re sitting down and you’re going to explain this all to me,” he said. “Including the purple silk. You’re surely not wearing that, are you? It was popular at one point in my life, but I don’t think I ever met anyone that shade would suit. Except maybe my mother…”

He was walking them over to the nearest chair while he spoke, then sat and pulled Erestor down into his lap. Erestor half struggled, feeling some need to exert a bit of independence in all this, but Glorfindel was firm. “We sit. You talk,” he said. “Because you’ve been getting snappier by the day and if even half of what Gildor claims is true, I want to hear it from you.”

Erestor subsided with a sigh and began to talk.

Glorfindel listened in silence to the entire tale, including the assistants in matching outfits, which was the only time his lips twitched almost into a smile. At the end there were some kisses and “I love you’s”, and then Glorfindel held Erestor slightly away from him so they could make proper eye contact. “This isn’t something that will go away if you ignore it,” he said. “I could fix it, but it’s better coming from you. You need to go and explain to Celebrían that neither of us wants something this extreme. Before she invites half the Woodland Realm. And Círdan.”

\-----o

Erestor took Celebrían for a walk down by the river and explained that they were both grateful for all she had been doing but that neither of them had envisioned quite that amount of flash and attention and Glorfindel wanted the occasion to reflect his new home and life as well as their love, rather than being an homage to his past. Celebrían listened quietly and at the end said, “You mean I don’t have to teach the kitchen how to bake trout after the style of Gondolin after all?”

And then she burst into tears. “it was the most intimidating thing I ever tried to do,” she managed to get out between sobs while he wrapped his arms around her and tried to soothe her. “I knew I was getting most of it wrong – especially the clothing, I don’t know what Tríwion was thinking – and then my mother said they might come and I could picture her looking and shaking her head and, and then being – nice!”

“Two things,” Erestor said, finally spotting a bench and leading her over to it. “Let’s sit here. Firstly, your mother isn’t the one exchanging vows here. It doesn’t matter what she thinks as long as Glory and I are happy. And I think you got so tied up in what she might say that you almost forgot that.” She had completely lost sight of that of course, but there was no need to make an issue of it. “So now we can adjust things so we’re all comfortable.”

“And the second?” Celebrían asked, sniffing.

Erestor smiled. He felt lighter and more peaceful than he had in weeks. Even the headache was fading. “Tríwion. He’s a designer. They lie. They all lie. I learned that very early in Mithlond. They live to see how ridiculous we’re prepared to make ourselves in the name of fashion. When you told him you wanted a fusion between Lórien style and Gondolin, he couldn’t help himself. There is no other reason anyone would have for suggesting I wear washed out lavender. Or peach.”

\-----o

The arrangements still went ahead. Food had been ordered, invitations had already begun going out, cancelling the entire business would be more gossip-worthy than changing its purpose. Erestor, free of fittings, menu consultations, and lines to learn – in Quenya, which he wrote fluently but barely spoke – got back to the business of running the administrative side of Imladris for Elrond and spent his evenings with Glorfindel, going back and forth over where to live and when to move. Except for some curious stares, life was almost back to normal.

One evening, about a ten-day later, he had just got back to his rooms after a busy day when there was a knock at the door. He opened it to find Elladan, hair neatly braided, and dressed as though expecting guests. Behind him was Arwen in a spring-green robe, flowers in her hair.

"We're here to invite you to dinner," Elladan told him without preamble. "Mother's done something with the private garden and wants us to eat out there tonight, insects, frogs and all. Adar says you're to come suffer with us. Gildor too. He wants to ask you about something... Do you know what it’s about, Wen?” he added over his shoulder.

Arwen frowned at him. “I don’t know, I think he just wants to make it special for Nana? You need to put on something nice, Restor. We got told to dress like it was dinner in the hall with guests.”

Erestor sighed. “I just got home. Isn’t it too early for dinner?”

Elladan seemed at a loss for an answer and shrugged vaguely, but Arwen said, “Yes, but Adar wants to talk to you first, and go on to dinner from there. He was choosing wine when we left.”

“You don’t need to fuss,” Elladan told him. “Just – be tidy, Mother said.”

After they left and after a search through his wardrobe, Erestor settled on a wine-coloured robe with dark green trim: it was comfortable and looked decent and meant he could leave his hair loose with just two small side braids. The house was going through one of the quiet spells when he left for the family wing, too soon for dinner, too late for anything else. He wondered if he should go past Gildor’s temporary quarters and collect him but supposed he would already have left: Gildor, like most of his family, liked a good dinner.

Elrond met him at the door personally. He was looking rather smart – Erestor recalled the comment about dressing as though for guests – and even wore the mithril circlet that had once, many years ago, belonged to Gil-galad. His face warmed to a smile. “Oh good, you timed this perfectly. You’re the last to arrive.”

Erestor scrunched his forehead. “It was meant to be a party? Dan said nothing about that. Should I go back and change?”

Elrond laughed and the sound was genuinely warm and happy. “No such thing, even Celebrían will approve – not a hint of Gondolin in sight.”

A hand to his elbow guided him down the hallway, past rooms he thought they would enter, and finally to the double doors opening onto the private, walled garden, with its wild flowers and roses and soft, long grasses and trees. Elrond hesitated. “Don’t be annoyed with anyone, they wanted to surprised you. Well, Glorfindel wanted to surprise you and everyone else chimed in.”

The garden was awash with the last light from the setting sun, turning brick and woodwork to rose gold and soft amber. Already starting to glow dimly, rows of little lanterns hung between the trees. The garden was not empty. The twins and Arwen were there, as was Gildor. Celebrían, dressed in a gown of soft pink, was putting last minute touches to the roses decorating the table on the little patio. A handful of others, all good friends of long tenure, turned to smile at him and call greetings. In the midst of this was Glorfindel, clad in silver and green, Elrond’s crest with the ship and bird at the centre of his chest, his hair dressed in the ancient knots and twists of Gondolin’s nobility.

Erestor looked up at Elrond. “Is this what I think it is?” he demanded.

Elrond smiled broadly. “You need to go and ask the chief culprit. Over there, with the blond hair.”

Glorfindel met his glance with a serious, questioning look and held out his hands. Erestor hesitated and Gildor shook his head laughing and came to fetch him.

“Come along, I may as well do my supporter’s duty here,” he said, taking Erestor’s arm.

“Why didn’t you warn me? What is wrong with you?”

Gildor was grinning. “You would have found something to fret about. Anyhow, your future lifemate told me not to and he’s bigger than me.” He left him in front of Glorfindel with a cheerful pat on the behind and went over to where Elrond was pouring wine.

Glorfindel’s blue eyes were very bright, very serious. “If you’re horrified at the lack of warning, we can just have dinner,” he said. “There are people here who might find that strange, but it seems fair. I didn’t want you worrying about it or taking on the work of organizing it or – doing anything really.”

“Besides show up, you mean?” Erestor tried to frown at him. “You made poor Elladan and Arwen lie to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that was probably the best part for them,” Celebrían said, on her way to place the customary bowl of water on a small table under the trees. The unlit candle, the salt and feathers, were already there.

“Your children are shameless, Celebrían,” Gildor told her.

She smiled happily. “I know. They are just like you and my mother.”

Glorfindel reached for his hand. “Are you still willing to marry me?” he asked. “No esoteric half-Gondolin ceremony with public vows and admonitions, just you and me and the people who matter and the life we chose. There’s still a long journey ahead for the First Kindred. Will you walk that road with me?”

Erestor took in the golden hair, the broad shoulders, the smile that could light a room and nodded, feeling a quiet certainty settle over him in answer to the love in those blue eyes. “When you put it like that – yes, I would like to share your road.” As Glorfindel tugged him closer for a quick, very respectable kiss, he stopped him with a hand to his chest. “One thing,” he said, making his voice very serious. “The promises we’re meant to exchange. No Quenya, right?”

Glorfindel shook his head laughing and hugged him. “Not one word unless you volunteer it,” he promised.

“I’ve heard his attempts to speak Quenya,” Gildor warned. “Best not. You might end up married to Elrohir’s pet instead.”

It was only then that Erestor realised the snake had come along for the celebration.

The ceremony was simple, more so than many Erestor had attended before. He found out later it was Gildor’s version of a cross between formalities in Sirion and the necessarily brief exchange of promises Elrond remembered from his days in the Feanorian camp. He stood as family for Glorfindel, whose life had bought that of his father and grandparents, while Gildor stood for Erestor, claiming the right of family through their long friendship. Celebrían called the circle, lit the candle in the traditional way, without flint, and offered the four elements in flawless Quenya. For the fifth, signifying spirit, she named starlight, raising her hand to the first and brightest star of the evening, Gil-Estel.

There were no formal vows. Glorfindel promised to love and honour, share what was his, support in hardship and celebrate together when times were good. His voice held the faint remnant of the Gondolin accent that had intrigued Erestor when they first met and his eyes held Erestor’s steadily. Erestor repeated each line back to him as they stood there in the gathering dusk, Glorfindel’s hands warm around his. Elrond offered the rings, Gildor bound their wrists lightly with golden silk. And then Celebrían said, in Sindarin this time, “That which is joined in love, may it prosper, may it be a shield, a strength, a roof above your heads and a fire in your hearth. As the One is our witness, so let it be.”

And then it was over, and they were being hugged and kissed, and there was laughter and lantern light and candles, and Erestor knew in his heart that it was exactly the way it should have been, right from the very first day they met. And as everyone started moving towards the dinner table, which had seemingly miraculously become laden with food and surrounded by chairs, Glorfindel said softly, “No regrets?”

Erestor slipped a hand into his and their fingers entwined. “No regrets. It was perfect. Just us and what’s ours.”

\-----o

Several weeks later, the surprise festivities to celebrate the settling of Imladris were in full swing. Currently Erestor was watching a group of fire artists walking over a bed of hot coals. At either end a pair of fire eaters were taking in and breathing out flares of brilliant flame to the gasps and cheers of the onlookers. The feast being laid out in the dining hall was almost ready and scents of roasting meats and fragrant vegetables were carried on the air.

Galadriel had not carried out her threat to visit. She had stayed in Lórien, and Celeborn came in her stead. He was currently walking with his arm round his much-loved daughter, moving from one group to the next, smiling affably. Gildor came into view and headed towards them. He and Celeborn greeted one another like old friends, which was something so unlikely as to be worth a second glance.

“One soldier to another,” a voice behind him said. “Plus they have Galadriel in common.”

Erestor smiled at Glorfindel. “That is true. She and Gildor are close, he makes her laugh. Not many can claim that honour.”

They linked arms and stood watching the fire artists at work, flame bright against the twilit sky. “At least none of the preparations were wasted,” Glorfindel said after a bit. “I’ve seen the hall, it’s drowning in flowers and good plate.”

“Has anyone congratulated you?” Erestor asked. “I’ve had some careful conversations with a few very confused people, like Thranduil’s young son. I said it was all a misunderstanding. He seemed relieved. It would have looked cheap, not having a gift.”

“It’s amazing,” Glorfindel shook his head. “Say something with enough self-belief and people will eat it down like summer fruit.”

“Nice saying.”

“It’s better in Quenya,” Glorfindel said with a straight face.

“Oh hush!” Erestor pushed him laughing and Glorfindel, grinning widely, slid an arm around him. “Everything repurposed, no waste, everyone having a wonderful day with a good meal at the end. What more could anyone want?”

“Day’s end?” Glorfindel suggested. “A closed door? Candlelight? Less clothing?”

Erestor leaned against him in smiling satisfaction. “It’ll come,” he promised. “Eventually. But I’m willing to let it wait a while. Roast boar first, and berry compote. Then we celebrate ourselves. Behind a closed door. With candlelight. Wearing – hardly any clothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Red Lasbelin. Red deserves an award for putting up with my last minute dramas. Also many thanks for some timeous beta saves and suggestions.


End file.
